


He's Just Not that Into You

by Anonymous



Series: starkerforlife6969 [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, He's Just Not That Into You AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Peter, Oblivious Tony, Peter Parker is a Sweetheart, Precious Peter Parker, Starker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Young Tony Stark, romcoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26121505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Tony reaches over to nudge him. "You need to know what to look for, that's all. When to reel them in. When to get keen. I know guys like you, sweet guys- no disrespect, but you take every little thing as some sort of sign. Oh, 'he smiled at me' or 'he picked up my pen'-""But he did smile at me-""Pete," Tony chuckles, "romcoms have ruined you. Naive-""Optimistic.""Naive." Tony insists, bright-eyed. "Just because you met in a library and you both reached for the same edition of Harry Potter at the same time-"Peter smacks him. "You're such a Slytherin." He glares.Tony winks at him. "Hufflepuff, you gotta know how to play the game."Peter mixes his drink. Muses. "I didn't think love was a game." He admits softly, deflating. The bar's deflated a little now too. Emptier. The TVs are off. The music is quiet and gentle. Here are he and Tony, cluttered over a small table."Love is a game, Peter. And we're gonna help you win."
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: starkerforlife6969 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1262336
Comments: 22
Kudos: 271
Collections: Anonymous





	He's Just Not that Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

It's the first week of summer and Peter's got a date.

Jacob is nice, and Peter's changed his shirt three times, and the bar is warm on this June evening, and thriving. Dancing bachelorette parties, the game on the big screen tvs hanging from the ceiling and-

Jacob's twenty minutes late.

But that's fine, Peter's fine, he pulls at his cuffs, tucks a curl behind his ear, bites his lip, refuses the temptation to look at his phone.

Maybe he should call Ned, Ned would know what to do-

"You waiting for someone, gorgeous?"

Peter looks up, feels colour rush to his cheeks. Dark eyes, a mouth that's sinful, _smirking,_ in a tight fitting shirt and- "Oh um, no-yes- I mean." Peter manages a smile. "I might've been stood up? But, he probably- something probably came up. Or maybe I had the date wrong."

Smirk looks at him. Sizes him up. "Let me buy you a drink, bambi." He says.

*

After two drinks, Peter Parker thinks Tony Stark might be his saviour. 

He's twenty two, the same age as Peter, but he's got it all- got it all _figured out._

"So- Jacob didn't really like me. The phone number was fake." He realises aloud.

"If the guy likes you," Tony nods sagely, sipping his dakiri, "he'll take _your_ number _and_ give you his. He gave you a fake number, bet he didn't ask for yours, right?"

Peter wilts a little. Sighing at his own foolishness. "Right. I thought we had a good time."

Tony reaches over to nudge him. "You need to know what to look for, that's all. When to reel them in. When to get keen. I know guys like you, sweet guys- no disrespect, but you take every little thing as some sort of sign. _Oh, he smiled at me_ or _he picked up my pen_ -"

"But he smiled at me and he _did not_ smile at anyone else-"

"Pete," Tony chuckles, "romcoms have ruined you. Naive-"

"Optimistic."

" _Naive."_ Tony insists, bright-eyed. "Just because you met in a library and you both reached for the same edition of _Harry Potter_ at the same time-"

Peter smacks him. "You're such a Slytherin." He glares.

Tony winks at him. "Hufflepuff, you gotta know how to play the game."

Peter mixes his drink. Muses. "I didn't think love was a game." He admits softly, deflating. The bar's deflated a little now too. Emptier. The TVs are off. The music is quiet and gentle. Here are he and Tony, cluttered over a small table.

"Love is a game, Peter. And we're gonna help you win."

*

They stay there for a few hours yet. Going over Peter's past relationships. _Flash, MJ, Gwen, Jacob-_

Going over Peter's blind date tactics, how to read people, how to know when to cut the chord- but Tony doesn't mind Peter's bumbling idiocy. He likes helping people. And Peter's _sweet,_ the sort of sweet Tony hasn't seen in a long time. That isn't available in the private boarding schools he grew up in. That wasn't allowed through the pristine hard wood front doors. 

"Oh, hey," Peter says, slurring just a little. The drinks he'd had were mostly sugar, not alcohol. "It's empty- is it closed?" He gapes, looking around, all fawn-like. 

"It's fine, bambi," Tony grins, sliding his arm under Peter's, guiding him to the door. "My dad owns the place. I'll lock up. You all good getting home?"

"I'll call a cab." Peter nods, wincing at the cool night air. Tony locks up, before turning to look down at his new friend. 

"It's good meeting you, Pete." He says, grinning, and Peter beams up at him. 

"I know you said not to read into anything, but- wouldn't it be romantic if _we_ fell in love? Like, you saved me from being stood up-"

Tony clamps his hand over Peter's mouth, tutting fondly. _This kid._ "Not that kinda movie, sweetheart. I'll be the mentor. The guide. The Yoda to your Luke."

Peter nods, and Tony removes his hand. Peter smiles beatifically up at him. "Alright. Thank you, sensei. I will resolve to follow your council."

Tony _likes_ him. Wants to see him do well. Had hated the sight of the kid (not a kid, the same age, but Peter doesn't _seem_ it. Full of idealism and princess stories) being stood up. Tony wants to see him happy. In love. Not getting played. Just because it's not for Tony, doesn't mean he doesn't want Peter to have it. "Here, take my number." Tony says, taking Peter's phone, typing in his number and sending himself a text. "Call me whenever you have a question."

Peter takes the phone gratefully. Cradles it in his palm. "Take you up on that I will."

Tony flicks his head. " _I'm_ Yoda, nitwit." 

"Hurt that did." Peter pouts, and Tony laughs into the night air, and hopes Peter calls.

*

Beck is hot, hard muscle, and Peter's only slightly uncomfortable from his position being pinned on the couch- the bony arm rest digging into his back, but that's all fine, because Beck tastes like toothpaste and his hands make Peter shudder-

They'd met yesterday, at a coffee shop. They'd both reached for the pumpkin spiced latte. Had both laughed. Exchanged numbers. It was a perfect meet-cute.

And Beck had _called_ Peter. He's reading all the signs right, he's sure of it. 

Peter curses when his phone buzzes. His boss wants his article done by tonight. New deadline. He sighs, pulling out from Beck's grip. "Sorry," he says earnestly, "I've gotta go. My boss needs this."

Beck nods, flushed, half-hard, hair falling attractively into his face. "I get it, but you can do your work here? Hm? I'll order take out, you can spend the night..."

Beck's hands slide up Peter's shirt, massage the taut muscle there. Peter relaxes into the touch, just a little. "That sounds nice..." he confesses, before laughing, "but I would never get anything done with you here."

Beck kisses his neck, bristly, goose-bump inducing. "Would that be so bad?" He murmurs. 

"I really can't..."

"It just sucks," Beck sighs, pulling away. "Because I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be in touch for a while. I'll just miss you."

Out of town? Peter's head rings. He's not sure what to make of it. Is it a play? Does Beck like him? Does he just want sex? If Peter stays tonight, will he never see Beck again?

"Can I go to the bathroom?" He blurts, like he's in school and Beck blinks at him, bewildered, but gestures with his hand. 

He finds Tony's number under _Sexy Yoda_ which is just- mental images that Peter does not need right now- and he dials. 

_"Pete, you called."_ Tony says warmly, answering on the second ring. 

"Oh hey, hi- Tony," Peter bleats, sitting on the bathtub and thrumming his fingers. "I'm in a situation- need advice."

" _Ah, amazing- one sec."_ Then, quieter, " _Hey, Pep, d'ya mind? I'll be back in 10."_

"Hope I'm not interrupting!"

" _Not at all. So, where we at?"_

"Okay, so, making out- I say I have to go, he says I should stay- I say I can't- then he says that he'll be leaving tomorrow so will be out of touch."

 _"Run."_ Tony says immediately, and Peter's face falls. 

"What? No," he whines, "What if he really is just going out of town?"

 _"Peter."_ Tony says, in that no-nonsense voice, " _Where could he possibly be going in the world that would mean he couldn't talk to you over the phone? He wants a hook up. Do you want a hook up?"_

Miserably: "No."

" _Well then, like I said: Run."_

Peter sighs. "So, he doesn't like me?"

_"Sure he likes you. Likes the thought of you in his bed. Who wouldn't? You're very cute. But he does not want a relationship. I sure don't respect the guy for trying to trick you into it, I'm upfront with all my one-night stands. It's just sex: nothing more."_

"I'm thrilled for you." Peter remarks dryly. "So, run?"

_"Run."_

Peter runs.

***

In yoga class, the new instructor, Stephen, compliments his form and then asks him out to dinner. 

" _Run."_ Tony says, mouthful of something, on his lunch break. 

Peter pecks at his own chicken salad. "Why? We haven't even gone out yet."

_"Pete, do I have to spell it out for you? Yoga? Bending over, flexibility, bet you've got tight yoga pants and everything."_

Peter wipes a drop of dressing off his keyboard. "Not everyone is as physically minded as you are. Maybe he thought we'd get on."

_"He's asked you out based on nothing but the way you look doing the downward dog. Waste of time."_

"I think you're wrong. I'm going to meet him for dinner."

Tony sighs. It crinkles down the receiver with disapproval. " _Go for it. I'll eagerly await your apology."_

When Peter does apologise, two days later, Tony is nice enough not to rub it in. 

***

Mr Jameson is tough on the edges, but a softie deep down, Peter knows that.

Which is why he tries not to let the very brutal edits on his latest piece get him down. They're all very fair. So, he works through them methodically, learning, trying to improve, and not let them get him down. 

It's late afternoon, he's in the zone, when his phone buzzes.

He picks it up absentmindedly, one knee drawn to his chest on his bed, other hand still scrolling through the word document. 

"Hello?"

_"Hey Pete, how goes the search for love?"_

"Tony." Peter beams, warm all over, pushing away his laptop and collapsing back into his pillows. "How are you?"

" _Good, good, bar's busy. Dad's happy enough with me managing it. New receptionist hates me, though."_

"Pepper?"

_"Yeah. I told her it was just sex- she misread the signs. Don't be like her, Peter."_

"If a person wants to be with you, they'll ask you out, they'll make it happen." Peter recites: Tony's number one rule. 

" _Atta boy. What about you? Jameson like your piece?"_

"A few edits. I'm working through them now. Actually- the photographer, Eddy, he's nice, handsome, might be into me?"

_"Might?"_

"Well, I don't know. He's never said anything. Am I allowed to ask anyone out? Or is that against the rules?"

 _"You can definitely ask someone out."_ Tony hums, " _just make sure you can read their response. Ask him out, if he's busy- he's not into you. If he leaps at the chance, well, you've nailed it."_

"Okay," Peter nods, excited. "Where should I ask him to go? Dinner? Is that too boring?" 

_"Hockey game, a movie, hell, a stake-out, it doesn't matter, just don't read into anything that isn't there."_

"I won't. Thanks for the help, Tony, really," Peter says, "And sorry to call you on a Saturday." 

" _No worries, Bambi. Let me know how it goes with Eddy."_

"Let me know if Pepper forgives you!"

Peter falls back into his work. Doesn't realise until just before he goes to sleep that actually- Tony called him.

***

" _He said no."_ Comes Peter's voice through the ear-piece, as Tony debates whether to make himself a kale or spinach smoothie at home later. Both packs of green look equally healthy. 

Tony dumps them both in the basket. Ignores the guy leering at him in favour of turning Peter up a little. "I'm sorry, kid. But better you know now than later, right?"

When Peter speaks, his throat sounds clogged " _I guess."_ He says forlornly. 

Tony cocks his head. Listens. Thinks. "How far into that tub of Ben and Jerry's are you, Pete?"

A pause. Tony grins: got him. 

" _I'm not...It's chocolate Fudge. There's um..."_ a spoon scrapes again soggy paper, " _not much left?"_

"No wallowing, rule number two, you know that."

 _"I know."_ Peter whines, " _but I thought he liked me, maybe he did- you know he said, he was going through something right now, a recent break up, but that maybe someday-"_

"It's a brush off." Tony insists, "don't read into anything that isn't there-"

" _Maybe he did really just-"_

"Okay." Tony says, setting his basket on the conveyer belt and pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need to get you back on the horse. I know a guy who might be into you: Steve. Wholesome, boring sort. Your kind of guy?"

_"Well, when you say it like that, how can I resist?"_

Tony shakes his head, smiling. "C'mon now, he's handsome. Very American. Tall, blonde, served in the Army for a bit, now he's some sort of do-gooder activist."

_"Well that doesn't sound- so bad."_

"And the best part? I think he might like you."

_"I was beginning to think that was impossible."_

Tony hands over his card, snorting. "No pity parties. You're easy on the eyes. Got those big bambi ones, those little freckles, long legs too, considering you're so short. It's nice. It's a good look." He can picture it, actually, those long legs wrapped around his hips. Peter's slender neck, fluffy hair spread out over the pillow- he needs to get laid today. Again. "I'll invite him to dinner, introduce the two of you. How's tomorrow?"

" _Tomorrow?"_ Peter squeals, excited, the sound of an empty ice cream tub being tossed aside. " _I haven't got anything to wear."_

Tony thinks of Peter's cream skin. Of his honey eyes. "Something tight. Maroon if you have it, anything sheer. Please, for god's sake, not that mustard monstrosity."

_"I love that sweater!"_

Tony carries his bags out to the car, feels the warm sun beat down on his face. "Oh hey, it's kinda nice out." He realises.

Peter sighs contentedly over the line. " _It really is. DJ Ravioli loves it."_

Tony stops by his car. Closes his eyes. "Who the fuck," he says, "is DJ Ravioli?"

_"It's my cat-"_

"Of course," he laughs, getting into the car, turning on the AC. "Of course it is. In every Romcom, what does the main character have? Some ugly ass cat-"

_"Hey!"_

"And DJ Ravioli! What kind of a name is that?" 

" _He's such a cutie-wootie, yes you are my little_ _ravioli-cannoli."_

"Goodbye, Peter!" Tony yells, hanging up the call. 

He can't stop smiling the rest of the way home. 

***

Peter's early. That's because he was raised with Ben's _if you're not early, you're late_ mantra, and now he's sitting in a fancy restaurant, fiddling with the tablecloth. 

MJ's done his hair. Crimped and weird, but he thinks overall he looks okay. He's taken Tony's tips, in a thin, flouncy maroon shirt tucked into very tight jeans. He better not eat too much. Not sure he could if he wanted to. 

"Good evening, Sir," says the waitress, eyes kind, "are you ready to order?"

"Oh um, not just yet," Peter smiles, "I'm waiting for..." he gestures to the two empty seats.

She nods, stepping back. 

Oh god, is he being stood up again-

Relief and pleasure seeps through him as Tony appears. He's in a plain black sweater, but he might as well be a model in how it stretches over him. He leans down, pecks Peter's cheek (warm, he's warm, and he smells like cologne) before collapsing into one of the seats and gesturing the waitress over.

"I messed up, Pete," he says, by way of greeting, having a glance through the menu.

Peter blinks, a little dazed. "Huh?"

"Steve. He's not free tonight. I'll reschedule it, I promise."

"Oh." Peter nods, "okay, so-"

"It's just us two tonight, that alright? You can bear my company?" Tony wiggles his eyebrows, and Peter laughs. His nerves leave him, he can relax now. 

"I think I can just about tolerate it. How's Pepper?" 

Tony winces. 

Peter laughs.

***

Tony, for all his playboy moves, is such a gentlemen, Peter thinks. He'd picked up the whole bill, hadn't given Peter a chance to offer half. 

And now Peter's full of lobster, warm and sated, and Tony is a warm line of heat against his back as he unlocks his front door. 

"Mm, it's cozy," Tony hums into his ear, as they shuffle inside and Peter closes the door, sleepy and a little- excited. To have Tony here, in his apartment, late at night- "Oh, there he is. Little monster."

And to Peter's surprise, Tony leans down and scoops DJ Ravioli into his arms. The fat cat barely protests, using the new position to stretch his spine. 

Peter grins, can't help, it and takes a photo on his phone. 

Tony glares at him. 

"What?" He giggles, "I thought you didn't like cats."

"Never said I didn't like 'em," Tony hums, thumb rubbing beneath DJ Ravioli's ears, "just said they're a cliche, that's all. In every love story, there's the damn cat. And it hates the bad guy- scratches them up- and loves the good guy, because somehow, the cat knows who you're meant to be with."

Peter lifts his eyebrows. "Well, DJ Ravioli likes you." 

"Guess I must be the good guy." Tony quips, rolling his eyes. He takes his own phone out then, arranging himself for a selfie. He'll send it to his mom. The cat blinks lazily at the camera. 

Just as Tony takes the picture, Peter slides into frame, stretching onto his tiptoes, finger's bunny ears behind Tony's head.

Tony shoves him playfully. "You're a photo crasher, Peter Parker. A photo bomber. A fiend. A nightmare." He sets the cat down, watches his waddle away. "And you're overfeeding that cat."

Peter flips him the bird then, and is rewarded with Tony's loud bark of laughter.

They drink coffee, Tony judges the way Peter organises his kitchen, and then at 2am, Peter pouts and says:

"These jeans are really tight. Do you mind if I change?"

Tony sips his coffee, side-eyes him. "Don't try to seduce me, Parker."

Peter snorts, grateful to shuffle into his bedroom and peel the jeans off him. He pulls on his Hello Kitty Sweat Pants and an oversized science tee, feeling immeasurably more comfortable. He pulls on his fluffiest socks, feels a little bad he can't offer Tony something to wear. They'd all be too tight.

He presents himself with a twirl. "Seduction at it's finest." He teases, and Tony looks him over; something warm and soft in his gaze that makes Peter blush.

"It's not bad." Tony murmurs, turning back to his coffee cup. "Well, it's-" he clears his throat, "late, Pete. I should go." 

Peter wiggles his toes in his socks, wants to crawl into bed. "Okay. Thanks for dinner."

"Thanks for..." Tony looks around, chuckles. "Having me. You should come by tomorrow. See how the other, better half lives."

Peter walks him to the door. Tony stoops down to rub a knuckle along DJ Raviol's back. The tail wraps around his wrist. Tony disentangles himself gently. "Around 6?"

Tony beams at him. "Perfect."

***

When Peter wakes up in the morning, everything becomes clear.

_Tony likes him._

He tries not to get swept away in the realisation of it. Tries to be rational, to follow the points. 

1) Tony had given Peter his number _and_ taken Peter's. 

2) Tony calls _him._ They talk all night, sometimes. Tony's left dates, make-out sessions, to talk to Peter. 

3) The mysterious 'Steve' that never showed up. Or perhaps, never existed at all.

Peter scribbles these into his notebook. Could it be? Tony's so... _handsome._ Clever. Funny. Why would he be into- but no-

Tony thinks he's handsome. Said so himself. Said Peter had bambi eyes (a pet name- that's a sign, Peter writes it down) and long legs. Said he looked nice in maroon. 

They're saved under cute nicknames in each other's phone. DJ Ravioli likes Tony! And there's Tony eyes- something warm and soft that Peter sees from time to time. 

And the fact that Tony saved him from being stood up. It's a perfect meet-cute. 

Peter squeals. Tony's invited him over tonight. Never pressured him into sex- it must be _something._

He spins on the kitchen stool and dreams of happily ever after. 

***

The radio plays as they wash the dishes. Tony washes, Peter dries. Their hips bump. 

It's nice, Tony thinks, as they hum along. His penthouse- big, empty, most of the times- except when he's having parties loud enough to upset the neighbours, but even those- they don't compare to this quiet company of Peter Parker.

Peter screeches as he hits a high note, so Tony turns the faucet on him, laughing as Peter splutters, slapping him with the rag. 

Tony doesn't want to point out he he has dishwasher. He likes this. 

Once they're done, he collapses onto the couch, watches as Peter ambles around before coming to stand in front of him. He looks thoughtful. He's wearing that gross mustard sweater that Tony kinda likes now, if only for the way it makes Peter looks soft and cuddly.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, trying to read Peter's mind. He's good at reading people, great at reading Peter, but not tonight. He can't quite gauge it. 

Then Peter, in his ugly sweater, beautiful, with a grace Tony suspected but didn't know Peter possessed- straddles him on the couch, and kisses him. 

Tony feels those long legs, spread wide over his own knees, feels the heat of Peter's core, those lily hands against his cheeks, that _soft, soft_ mouth against his own. 

He moans appreciatively, opening his mouth, taking control. His own hands coming to wrap around Peter's waist and-

"I knew it," Peter whispers, pleased as punch against his cheek, "we're in _love."_

Tony splutters, a cold wash of water against the pleasing heat that was working it's way down his body. "We're- what-" he pushes Peter away a little, from where those teeth were nipping his ear. 

Peter sits back, still fucking _straddling_ him, still looking as innocent as a wall-flower, one hand still poisoned above Tony's denim-clad dick. "We're in love," Peter repeats, beaming. "We're dating."

Tony scoffs, erection wilting. "Well, gee, Pete, was I ever gonna know about any of this? In what universe are we dating?"

"We-" Peter frowns, swallowing hard. "I- you liked me? The signs-"

"What signs?!" Tony fumes, pressure mounting, pushing on his chest. "Jesus Christ, Pete." He pushes Peter off him, gets to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"I..." Peter sits, mussed, on the couch, staring up at him. "You- you took my number. You call me, S-Steve didn't show up- you- you- we talk all night, we made dinner, we washed up- you came over- I thought-"

"What did I say? What did I say?" Tony hisses, raking his hands through his hair. "If a guy is into you, Peter, he will ask you out. Or you ask him out. Did I ask you out?" 

Peter eyes are swimming with tears. He looks flushed with humiliation and _great,_ now Tony's a massive jerk. "N-no."

"Peter." Tony can't look at him, turns and bangs his head against the wall. "Why- why do people do this? Read into _nothing._ There is nothing between us but friendship. And now..." he whirls back to Peter accusingly. "Now you've ruined our friendship. You look for all these tiny, insignificant moments. I gave you my number because I wanted to help you, Steve genuinely couldn't make the day, I invited you over here because we're _friends._ I've never made a move on you, never asked you out, and you've never asked me out. You _know,_ you _know_ I don't do relationships. Why? Why do people think that they're the exception? You're not the exception, Pete, you're not gonna change me. You're the rule, and the rule is: if I liked you, I would've asked you out. But I didn't, so I don't."

He has to catch his breath once he's done. Peter's still sitting there, eyes watering- but not crying. The air is tense. Thick. 

"God, Pete," Tony says gently, "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but- no. We're not in a relationship. We're not dating. I'm not into you."

They're mean. Cruel words. But they're true. Tony's a straight-forward, up-front kind of guy. He turns to his kitchen, pours himself a drink. _Fuck, what a night._

"I don't want to be like you." Comes the quiet voice from the living room.

Tony sets down the brandy, whirls towards Peter with a scoff. "Excuse me?"

Peter looks up at him, still red-faced, but brave. "I don't want to be like you. Going around, using people. Never finding love, never looking for it. Never getting- excited at a smile, or wondering what your life with someone might be like. I _like_ hoping. I like dreaming and meet-cutes, and big, unrealistic romantic gestures, I like that."

Tony sneers, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll be over here, living in the real world."

Peter gets to his feet, grabs his bag, wipes his face. "You do that, Tony, you live all alone in the real world. You won't find any happiness like that."

"At least I won't get rejected twice a week!" Tony yells, as Peter heads for the door. 

Peter turns back, hand on the door knob, angry. "I'd rather get rejected knowing that it means I'm closer to my happily ever after. I'll take rejection after rejection, Tony."

"Well done," Tony claps, "this is another one to add to your dossier."

The door slams and Tony's alone and there's no one to yell at so he throws his glass of brandy across the kitchen. The stupid sturdy glass doesn't even break, the liquid just drips down onto the tile and he'll have to clean it up later.

*

It's been three days. 

Surely Peter's still not angry with him after _three_ days. Sure, Tony said some stuff, but it was- heat of the moment. They're friends. 

He rubs his temples, puts down the paper work- can't read the words. He needs to sign off on payrolls, order more stock, sort out the overtime policy-

He takes out his phone. No messages. No calls. 

The door opens, and Pepper walks in, professional, the last dredges of her anger with him mostly gone. "Hey Tony, a few more for you to sign." She sets down the papers. 

"Thanks," he mutters. No DMs on twitter. Nothing on instagram. He opens Facebook. 

"Oh my god."

Tony looks up, startled at Pepper's expression of delight. "What?" He asks, eyes flicking down- nothing on Facebook. Email, maybe?

"Who are they?"

"Who are who?"

"The special someone." She laughs, eyes bright with disbelief. "Who's got you checking your phone obsessively, wondering when they'll call."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tony says, putting his phone away. "You may go."

"You haven't been able to concentrate all day," she muses, perching on the edge of his desk, perfectly comfortable. He misses the days she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. "You put Javier on dishes and Rebecca at the bar- rookie error. You keep asking if anyone's called the bar for you- you haven't shaved. And is that the same shirt as yesterday-"

" _No."_ Tony says emphatically, self-conscious and sweaty, "just go. Please."

Pepper gets to her feet, laughs again. "The world of love. Welcome to it, asshole."

When she's gone, Tony sits there. Fingers itching for his phone. 

"Shit." He mutters to himself. 

***

He sends Peter a message. A text. He says: **Pete, I'm sorry about what happened. Can we talk? Brunch, maybe? I want us to be friends.**

He doesn't get an answer. 

He wants to hurl his phone against the wall in frustration. What the _fuck._

He paces relentlessly. Keeps his phone charged.

Peter posts on instagram, it's a photo of DJ Ravioli asleep in a sunbeam, with the caption _another nice, sunny day_

What does that mean? Tony had said to Peter once that it was a nice day- is this a reference to that? A secret meaning? Should he like the photo? Should he not? 

He finds himself driving past Peter's apartment late at night. Sometimes the lights are on. Sometimes they're not. 

Tony wonders if he's eating ice cream. If he's in those stupid pyjamas. If Jameson liked the latest revisions. Wonders if he's petting the cat.

Wonders if he's thinking about Tony.

His phone buzzes, and he nearly drops it in his haste to check it.

It's from his mom. 

**Sorry, got a new phone, didn't see this till just now- what a cutie! Is he yours? (I don't mean the cat), you look so happy, sweetheart. Also, are you eating enough? Your dad says hi!**

Tony clicks on it. Sees the photo he sent her. Captured mid-laughter, Tony is beaming, face turned to Peter, who's gorgeous, beaming, lovely-

Tony looks at his own expression. Has he ever looked at someone like that before? The way he's looking at Peter in this photo?

He does look happy. He looks...home.

*

"- _ey Tony. Is this_ _recording? Hey Tony, it's Steve! I just wanted to let you know I ran into Peter- your Peter- at the flower garden in Harlem today. How crazy is that? Must be fate. He's amazing, you're a matchmaker. We've got a date tonight- I'll let you know how it goes!"_

Tony listens to the message three times. A voice mail, of course, because Steve might as well be from the 1940s. 

There's a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. What does that mean? That the very person Tony thought Peter would get on with is the one he bumped into in Harlem? In a _flower garden._ Peter was probably surrounded by foxgloves, ridiculously beautiful in his dandelion cardigan, streaks of suncream still on his face. 

Maybe Steve had come up to him, said that Peter was a more beautiful view than the flowers. Steve is gross like that. 

And Peter probably- probably liked it. Thought Steve was handsome, because Steve is. Probably blushed the way he blushes whenever someone compliments him, like he never received enough. The amount he deserved. Probably said something lame like "you're not so bad yourself."

He wonders how Peter reacted when Steve brought Tony up, brought up their link. Their almost. 

Did he ask about Tony? Steve's message hadn't said anything- so Peter obviously hadn't said anything bad. That must mean something. 

Going out tonight. Peter's going out tonight. 

Tony doesn't want Peter to go out tonight. He wants to lie in Peter with bed, with that fat cat, and watch TV and talk and order Chinese. Wants to kiss Peter- wants to-

"Oh," he whispers, fingers shaking, he presses his hands together. This is love. He's in love. With Peter. He's been in love with Peter since-

He remembers the sight of him at the bar. Beautiful. Sweet. Idealistic like Tony couldn't believe and-

Goddamn it. Tony's loved him the moment he first laid eyes on him.

And he's fucked it all up. 

***

He sees Steve on the way up. He hides behind a plant, peeks out behind leaves. Steve is whistling, smiling, pleased. Okay, well, so, they had a good date- but Peter didn't let him in for a nightcap. That must mean something.

Tony hurries upstairs, heart pounding. He knocks on the door of Peter's apartment, tries to control his hair and-

"Oh good, you forgot your coat!" Comes Peter's voice, pleased, and the door opens and-

It's Peter. 

He's in Steve's coat. It's draped over his shoulders. There's stardust in his eyes, he's wearing chinos and a hideous flannel shirt and-

"Peter." Tony breathes, wants to kiss him. Wants to pull that coat off him and burn it.

Peter stands firm in the door. Doesn't move to let him in. His face closes off. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

"I can't sleep," he blurts, aware of the wreck he must look. "Can't eat. Can't think straight. I keep- driving past this place, wondering if you're up, what you're doing, if you're thinking about me. I keep- wanting to call. To find any excuse to- I keep replaying all our- moments, I'm- I'm becoming-"

"Me." Peter finishes, he looks up at Tony with his huge eyes.

"Bambi," Tony whispers, and Peter flinches away, shaking his head. 

"Tony, I just...I just went on a date with Steve-"

"I know." He whispers. Hating himself already. He's left it too late. Should've come sooner, should've realised earlier. 

"And I think he- he actually likes me, Tony. He doesn't see love like it's a game, he calls when he says he'll call and he's not scared of relationships-"

"I'm not scared anymore." Tony whispers, taking another step forward, "I can be yours-"

"But you didn't want to be!" Peter cries, shaking his head. Pain etched across his face, and Tony remembers his words. How cruel, how _wrong_ he was. "I threw myself at you, and you didn't want me-"

"I was wrong. I was wrong, Pete, and you were right. About everything. I didn't- I'm so used to doing the same thing, of keeping people at arms length, that when I actually fell-" the words choke in his throat, "-in love- I didn't- I didn't know. I didn't realise."

Peter stares at him, closes his eyes. There's a long beat of silence. "Tony," he whispers, composing himself, "a wise Yoda once told me that if someone wants to date you, they'll make it happen. That I'm the _rule,_ not the-"

He can't take it. Not another moment. Not another unbearable second of Peter thinking that Tony doesn't want him-

So, he kisses him.

It's awkward, and desperate, and then- gentle. He cradles Peter's face in his hands, kisses him long, and slow and endless. Tries to pour all the love, and the _hope_ and the fire he's been carrying for Peter since the moment he saw him. 

When they pull apart, Tony doesn't step back. Stays close. Hopeful. Pleading. 

Peter's eyes flutter open, like a prince in a fairytale, like the leading star in a romance. "I'm the exception," he whispers, hands on Tony's chest.

Tony's heart thunders with truth. "You are _my_ exception." He breathes, pulling Peter and his gorgeous smile in for another kiss. His hands push Steve's coat from off his shoulders, he steps on it for good measure, and he swallows Peter's laughter, nearly trips over DJ Ravioli, and kicks the door shut behind them. 

*

They spend the next day in bed, watching tv, and they order Chinese food. 

Peter checks his work emails, and Tony reaches over and kisses him like he can't help it. Peter laughs, kissing back for a moment, before pulling away. "Am I that irresistible?" He teases. 

Tony looks up at him from his side of the bed, eyes earnest. "Yes." He says solemnly. "You are."

"Does that mean I get the last spring roll?"

Tony winces. "I already gave it to the cat."

"Oh well," Peter sighs, collapsing into Tony's arms, tossing the phone away. "You'll just have to make it up to me somehow."

Tony starts to pepper him with kisses. Hands slip under Peter's shirt. "I can do that. I can do that every day for the rest of our lives."

Peter hums, vibrating with glee, "and is this the first day of Happily Ever After?"

"Baby," Tony grins, brushing the cat hair from Peter's forehead, and kissing him again, and again, "I think it just might be."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this gorgeous people! Let me know if you did down below!


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